


Who He Is

by mirokai



Series: His Professional Capacity [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, M/M, Mycroft's job, Original character's ill-advised meddling, Protective Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokai/pseuds/mirokai
Summary: Greg's friend tries to warn him about Mycroft. Greg is unimpressed.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: His Professional Capacity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078895
Comments: 14
Kudos: 194





	Who He Is

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments warm my grinchy heart.

“Mycroft bloody Holmes?! The bloke you’ve been seeing is actually Mycroft bloody Holmes?!? Are you completely mad, Greg?!”

Greg pushed down the flare of warmth in his chest from hearing Mycroft’s name (even with “bloody” in the middle of it) and narrowed his eyes at his old friend. “How do you know that?”

Rob plowed forward. “Have you any idea who he is, Greg?”

Greg grinned as a succession of images flashed through his mind: his mouth around Mycroft’s beautiful cock, his cock in Mycroft’s perfect arse, counting the freckles on Mycroft’s shoulder as they lay together in the haze that followed lovemaking. “Yeah, I’d say I have a pretty good idea who he is.” 

Mycroft had woken him at 4 o’clock that morning for a quick shag before he had to leave “for about a week” on a work trip. Afterward, Greg lay in bed, watching Mycroft put on his three-piece suit. 

“Are you going somewhere dangerous?” 

Mycroft’s hands had stilled for a moment as he tied his tie. “You needn’t worry about me, Gregory.” 

Greg shrugged. “I still do.” 

Mycroft came to the bed and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “I generally leave the dangerous parts to others these days.”

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Greg pointed out, cupping Mycroft’s cheek with his hand. 

“It’s not,” Mycroft agreed, and turned his face to kiss Greg’s palm. He stood and took the waistcoat off the hanger, his eyes and mouth tightening almost imperceptibly as he put his left arm in. Greg noticed. 

“Your bum shoulder seems to indicate that you don’t always leave the dangerous parts to others.” 

Mycroft chuckled. “I do not have a ‘bum shoulder,’ Gregory. A very long time ago I sustained an injury which occasionally makes certain movements of my shoulder slightly uncomfortable.” 

“If you can’t hide a wince during a conversation in which I’m actively asking about your safety, I'd say it’s more than slight discomfort, darlin’. And you favor it plenty of other times too.” 

Mycroft turned to face away from Greg as he pulled the jacket on. Greg was certain it was so he could wince without scrutiny. Mycroft picked up his shoes and brought them over to the bed, sitting beside Greg to put them on. 

“You are very perceptive, Gregory. I will admit that my shoulder hurts sometimes. But it’s been that way for a decade, from a time when my life and my work were very different than they are now.” He brought Greg’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I cannot tell you where I’m going, but I can tell you that my risk of injury on this trip is incredibly low. That will have to suffice.”

That afternoon, Greg had been at a crime scene when his mobile rang. Hoping it was Mycroft checking in, he had fished it out of his pocket quickly. His heart sank a little when he saw it was a friend from university who he met for drinks every few months. Surprised by Rob’s urgent tone, he had agreed to meet at a pub after work that evening. 

“Now how do you know who I’m seeing, Rob?” 

“I… found out. Listen to me, Greg, you’ve got to be careful. Mycroft Holmes is not to be trifled with!”

“Who said anyone was trifling?” Greg leaned back in his chair. “And how do you come to be so wise in the ways of Mycroft Holmes? How do you even know who he is?”

Rob took a bolstering swig of his beer. “Aw, c’mon, mate. How do you think?” 

“I honestly don’t know. Does he keep his money at your bank or something?” 

“See? I knew you were too thick to be dating him.” Rob took another drink then leaned close to Greg. “Mate, I work at a bank the same way Mycroft Holmes works at the Ministry of Transport.” 

Greg’s jaw dropped. “You’re a spy?!?” 

“Oi, keep your voice down,” Rob looked around quickly. “I’ve been at the ‘bank’ for a couple years now.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know… what kind of bank you worked at!” 

“Which only means I’m good at my job, so ta.” 

“And you work with Myc?” 

Rob nearly squeaked at the nickname. “Mister Holmes is my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss. Or something like that. It gets a little murky at his level.” Rob leaned in again. “And Greg, his level is _terrifying_. Do you have any idea the stories about him? How many people he’s -” 

Greg waved his hand. “I don’t care about that.” 

“You should care, mate. You really should. If you annoy him he could have you … out of the picture.” 

“I think it’s safe to say he’s different in his personal life,” Greg smirked. “How did you even find out about us?” 

“I was chatting to a bloke on his protection detail. Did you know he’s got a protection detail?” 

Greg had pulled a gun on one of them during an early date when he realized that the man was following them. “Yup.” 

“Well this bloke mentioned that the boss was seeing a handsome silver haired detective, so I asked him when it started, and what he said lined up with when you started walking around on cloud nine. So I showed him your picture and he said it was you.” 

A nagging suspicion started to grow in the back of Greg’s head. He checked his mobile to see if he had missed a text from Mycroft. Nothing. He glanced around the bar. No one suspicious. He thumbed open his mobile and sent a quick text. _This morning was amazing. I miss you already._

“And so I just had to say something, mate. I had to warn you. There’s no way you know what you’re getting into,” Rob was saying. 

Greg took a sip of his ale. “So if Mycroft is as terrifying as you’re saying,” he put the beer down and leaned his elbows on the table, “how do you think he’ll react to you trying to warn off his boyfriend?” 

“Boyfriend?!” Rob nearly gasped. “Mycroft Holmes does not have a ‘boyfriend’! He has - I don’t know - a paramour, or - or a housewife or something!” 

“Careful mate,” Greg nearly growled. “But the question stands. What do you think he’s going to do to you, now that you’ve done this?” 

Rob’s face fell. “I - I - I mean, you’re not going to tell him! Are you?!” 

Greg sat back again. “No, I won’t say anything. But you’ve just yammered on at me about how my lover - my _paramour_ \- is more or less the boogie man. You don’t think he’s going to find out about this, even if I don’t tell him? You don’t think, wherever he is in the world right now, he doesn’t already know?” 

At that moment Greg’s mobile plinged and a text popped up. Mycroft. _I miss you too._ Greg held it up. “Speak of the devil.” 

Rob blanched. 

Six days later, Greg was asleep in his bed when Mycroft slid in beside him and kissed his bare shoulder. Mycroft had said that he was traveling overnight and would be back “very early in the morning” so Greg had an alarm set for five a.m. It was probably nearer to three. Greg rolled over to face him, his face suffused by a sleepy grin. “You’re back!” He craned his neck forward to kiss Mycroft’s lips.  
Mycroft hesitated at first, then reciprocated, until they both melted into the kiss. 

“Hm,” Mycroft murmured when they finally broke apart, “that was the reception I was hoping for, but not the one I necessarily expected.” 

“What?” Greg frowned his confusion. “You didn’t expect I’d be happy to see you?” 

Mycroft sighed. “I … was concerned.” 

Greg rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. “Concerned? Why? I was texting you every day that I missed you. Would have told you on the phone if you had let me call you.” 

“I’m sorry, Gregory, I was not in a position to take phone calls.” 

Greg shrugged awkwardly given his position. “‘S alright. But why were you concerned?” 

Mycroft sighed and looked away. “Your conversation with Robert Sampson.” 

Greg laughed, louder than he intended, making Mycroft raise his eyebrows. 

“Hah! I knew you would know about that! Does he really work for you or was it all a put on?” 

“Mr. Sampson does work in my organization,” Mycroft said delicately. 

“And did you put him up to that? As a joke or something?” 

Mycroft rolled onto his back and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “It was not a joke, Gregory. I believe you were treated to Mr. Sampson’s unvarnished opinion. And as for putting him up to it, I suppose I did, but not in the way you think.” He dropped his hands to his chest. “I’ve known about Mr. Sampson’s connection to you since he was hired by my organization. You were already working with Sherlock at the time, but it never seemed relevant to mention to you. However, Mr. Sampson was recently being considered for a promotion. As a kind of test, I orchestrated him finding out about our relationship to see what he would do with the information.” 

“I take it he didn’t pass that test.” 

“No, he failed rather spectacularly.”

“Is - is he in trouble?” 

“He’s certainly not getting a promotion. Even if all he’d done was ruin his cover with you, that would be enough to indicate that he is not prepared for greater responsibility. His future in the organization remains to be seen.” 

“But he’s not getting disappeared to a black ops site?” 

Mycroft turned to face Greg, his eyes anxious. “Gregory, I -” 

Greg stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “That was a joke, Myc.” He leaned forward to kiss the other man. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft said softly when they broke apart again, “I need you to understand something.” 

Greg touched his cheek gently. “I’m listening, darlin’.” 

“I am very good at what I do. Part of that requires inspiring a certain amount of fear in my subordinates and … others. But the fear I inspire, is not who I am, and it is never who I will be with you. I’m not a monster, Gregory.” 

Greg gave him a warm lopsided smile. “I know that, darlin’.” He planted a soft kiss on Mycroft’s lips. “And even if you are, you’re my monster.”


End file.
